


Off The Field

by t_time



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Daniel is a history teacher, Daniel is as repressed as he is Catholic, Johnny is a Soccer coach, M/M, Mid 90s au, Slow Burn, Teachers AU, a karate kid fanfic with no karate? in this fic? it's more likely than you think, they didn't meet in high school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_time/pseuds/t_time
Summary: Daniel LaRusso just wants to teach his history class in peace. He doesn't want to deal with his ongoing sexual identity crisis, or his ma's questions about when he's gonna settle down and meet agirl, and he definitely doesn't want to be Johnny Lawrence's new assistant coach.But you can't always get what you want--1993 AU in which Daniel is a history teacher, Johnny is a coach, and they never met in high school (but still manage to fall into a rivalry)
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 43
Kudos: 49





	1. Thursday, 9:20 am- Passing Period

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I should really work on my existing WIP  
> Evil me to me: start a new WIP based on a tumblr post. 
> 
> So here we are. 
> 
> the post in question: https://cobrabi.tumblr.com/post/644768897384464384/lawrusso-high-school-teacher-au-where-johnny-is

Principal Stevens is quite possibly the most conflict-blind education administrator in the San Fernando Valley School District. Maybe the world. Seriously, he strolls right past an outright fight in the halls to get to Daniel's classroom.

Lawrence’s assistant has just quit (driven away, no doubt, by his stellar personality), when Stevens asks Daniel about soccer. 

“You used to play, right?" 

“Sure, back in high school.” Before he’d been uprooted to move to LA, he’d played center forward, but at East Valley High, blonde assholes like Johnny Lawrence had beat him off the team. Literally. “Why?”

“Perfect. Jack Davis quit, as I’m sure you know, and John–” Stevens was the only person at West Valley High who called Lawrence ‘John.’ Everyone else called him Johnny, if they were teachers, or Coach Lawrence, if they were students, or nothing if they were Daniel and avoided conversations with the dick at all costs. “–could use a new assistant coach.”

Daniel immediately begins the backpedal. “Oh I’m not sure–”

Stevens plows on “I know it’s a kind of a big ask–”

“–with my schedule, and tutoring–” 

“–think you’d be a good tempering presence–”

“–I didn’t even play that much in high school, really–”

“–only in the interim, while we find someone new–”

“–I spent most of my time on the bench, just watching–”

“–you’re half a coach already. Come on, Danny. We could really use you.”

 _Sure you could,_ Daniel thinks bitterly, but ultimately it’s the appeal to the greater good that convinces him. _Think of the kids,_ Amanda will probably tell him when he inevitably spends all of martini and trivia night bitching about Coach Lawrence. 

“Okay. I will.” Before Stevens can be too pleased, he adds. “But you have to start looking. Right away.”

Stevens claps him on the shoulder, not the least bit stymied by Daniel’s reluctance. “You’re the best Danny. Really.” 

Seriously, Lawrence gets John, and he gets _Danny_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the post this is based on made Daniel a science teacher, but I decided to write him as a history teacher, because I can just see Daniel in the humanities. 
> 
> Also I binged "you and me (in the all-valley lockup)" by the incredible menocchio right before this, and that inspired the time stamp chapters, though this won't be jumping around in time because I don't have the patience or the story telling skills for that.


	2. Thursday, 12:15 pm- Lunch Meeting

Lawrence’s office stunk like sweaty gym socks and beer. Did he really drink beer at work? In a _school_? How this guy managed to have parent-teacher conferences in here without getting fired was beyond Daniel's comprehension. 

“ _You’re_ my new assistant?” He says with a tinge of disapproval that makes Daniel tense up. 

“Coach. Assistant coach. I’m not your goddamn secretary, Lawrence.”

A snort. “Well, good. Don’t know what I'd even do with a secretary.” 

Daniel looks around the office, and he can think of several things. 

“Well,” Lawrence continues, hell-bent on being an asshole at every turn. “I suppose I could think of a few things.”

Daniel’s noise of disgust does nothing to dampen the blonde’s following laugh. 

“Did you need me for something, or did you just summon me to your office to make crude jokes?” asks Daniel impatiently. 

For some reason, this invites Lawrence to lean forward, elbows on the desk, smirking. “Just thought I’d get to know my new assistant _coach_ before practice. Let you in on how I run things.”

Daniel raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Have a unique system? Do you run things differently than every other soccer coach in the country?”

His smirk widens to a grin. “And if I do? Think you can keep up?’

“In my sleep,” Daniel volleys back, getting the distinct impression that Johnny is flirting. He shakes that thought. Johnny Lawrence is not, well. And neither is Daniel. He thinks. He’s pretty sure. That time in college was just like a one-off thing. He doesn’t even think about it that much.

Some paper shuffling, and then Johnny is tossing a binder at him. Daniel catches it easily. _West Valley Mountain Lions Soccer_ it reads. 

“What is this?”

“It’s your new bible.” And really, that’s just offensive. He _knows_ Daniel goes to church. Most weeks. He tries. For his ma. “Plays, exercises, drills, and some notes on our team. Read it before practice today, meet me on the field at 3:45?”

It’s not a question, even if it’s phrased as one. Daniel nods, still mystified that Lawrence is put together enough to create a _binder_. With _laminated pages._ This is the same man who wears striped gym shorts to staff meetings on weeknights. 

The warning bell rings, and Daniel hustles out of the room, determined to get to his classroom before his students. He resolves to ignore the binder. Maybe if he pisses him off enough, Lawrence will complain and they’ll find someone else to be the assistant coach.


	3. Thursday, 4:15 pm- Practice: Warm Up

“Did I tell you pansies to slow down? Move! Move! Move!” Daniel tries not to wince when Johnny blew his whistle. Give a guy some warning. 

“I can’t call them pussies anymore. Some bullshit parent complaints about swearing at ‘young impressionable children’ not being ‘professional.’” Johnny tells him, leaning too close and breathing on Daniel’s neck while he talks. 

Daniel snorts derisively, remembering how his coaches said much worse stuff to him and his teammates as a kid, before he remembers he’s not supposed to be getting along with Johnny. He sniffs. “You are a professional, it would probably be good to act like it.” 

Johnny pulls back from him a little, smirking again. “You think so, LaRusso?”

Daniel meets his eye, tilts up his chin and takes the challenge. “Yeah, I do.” 

His arms cross over his torso, and Daniel does _not_ notice the way his biceps pull at his polo. “I’ll keep that in mind. Assistant coach.” He turns back to the pitch where the team has finished their mountain runs and collapsed onto the grass. “Suicide time! On the line!” 

The team groans and slowly stand to move to the line. This time Daniel braces himself for the whistle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mountain runs (that's what my volleyball coach called them at least) sucked so much ass. So picture this: you'd line up along one line, and then run to the other side. and repeat 15 times. And then 13, 11, so on down to one. So painful.


	4. Friday, 1:30 pm- US History for Juniors

The next day, following his first, and hopefully one of the last, practices with the team, Daniel finds the first of many issues with both teaching and being a coach: what the players call him.

The first of his juniors, Zach, walks in two minutes to bell and offers him a “Good afternoon, Mr– or, uh Coach– LaRusso.” 

Daniel’s hands stop where they’re writing the last of the lesson on the board. He turns to see the boy sitting at his desk with a red face, shakes his head, and turns back. 

The next three come in a group and speak at the same time: “Hey Coach–” “What’s up, Mr. L?” “Hey Coach LaRusso–”

They break off into a hushed, furious argument. “He’s our coach now–” “But we always call him Mr. L–” “Didn’t Coach say to call him Coach LaRusso?”

“Boys? Is there an issue?”

They all turn sheepishly but don’t speak. When Daniel raises his eyebrows, Chris– standing on the right– elbows Ryan in the side. 

He huffs and turns to shove his friend, and Daniel has to step in before any desks or bones are broken. 

“What do we call you?” Zach blurts from his seat.

“What do you mean?” Breathing hard and standing as a barrier between two bull-headed teenage boys. 

“Well, Coach says to call you Coach too, but you always tell us to call you Mr. L, it’s confusing.” 

“Huh,” Daniel steps back and indicates that the boys should take their seats. Shrugs. “Listen to your coach on the field, and me in the classroom.” 

When this doesn’t seem to help, “Call me Mr. L. Same as always.” 

Lawrence shouldn’t be dictating what his students call him anyway.


	5. Friday, 4:00 pm- Stretching

Daniel cannot believe that any of the players take their coach seriously in shorts that expose that much thigh. But they do; march up in uniform right on time and drop into stretches without being told. 

Daniel’s juniors nod to him and, true to their conversation, call him Mr. L. Lawrence is having none of it, because of course he isn’t. 

“Boys,” he barks, jerking his head to summon them back to their coaching duo. “How do you respectfully address your new coach?”

“Mr. L?” Ryan asks, clearly lost. 

Lawrence rolls his eyes. “You will address your coach respectfully! That means ‘Coach LaRusso’ or maybe ‘Coach L’ when you’ve become really good friends. Anything less is an insult–”

“Johnny–”

“–If you lack the brainpower to figure out how to respectfully address your coach then I will make you run until you figure it out or your feet bleed, you got me?”

“Johnny!”

“What?”

“I told them to call me Mr. L,” Daniel tells him quietly, trying to spare him the embarrassment in front of the players. They mostly look scared. 

His forehead creases. “What? Why?” 

“Because that’s what they’ve always called me? I’ve been their teacher since August.”

“Sure that’s fine for the classroom, but on the field, they call you coach– hey!” He snaps as the boys try to slouch off. “We’re not done here. It’s a matter of respect.”

An eye roll. "They respect me fine,” and to the boys, “go stretch.”

Grateful to have an out, the boys hustle over to the rest of their teammates. Lawrence turns to glower at him. 

“As my _assistant_ coach–”

“Here we go–”

“It is not your place–”

“My _place_?”

“To contradict me in front of _my_ players.” He’s doing that wide-leg, arm-cross stance again, the one that really tests the limits of his clothing and Daniel feels the urge to avert his eyes and give the guy a little privacy. He chooses to glare instead. 

“They’re _my_ students, Lawrence.” He laughs and rolls his eyes over to where the team is stretching. Daniel seethes and steps into his personal space, forcing the blonde to look at him. “You wanna talk about place? Don’t tell my students what to call me.”

Johnny’s eyes flit down between them, taking in the minuscule space between their chests. His stance is so wide they almost stand at eye level. He scoffs. “You expect me to be intimidated by a twink in an elbow patch blazer? Really?”

Daniel rears back like he’s been hit. “I am not– fucking watch your mouth Lawrence or I’ll–”

“What?” Johnny replies, eyes bright and laughing like this is some kind of joke, like he didn’t just insinuate Daniel was– “What’re you gonna do?”

Before Daniel can respond, up jogs Jordan, senior and team captain,“Coach? Er, uh, Coaches?” 

Johnny pulls it together before he does, dick. “Yeah, Jordan?”

“Are you guys okay?” Looking between them, concern written all over his face. And yeah, maybe they should rein it in in front of the players. 

He doesn’t even spare Daniel a look. “We’re fine. What did you need?”

“We’re finished stretching.”

Lawrence bobs his head. “Split the team in two and set up for kicking drills.”

Jordan nods and runs off, clapping his hand together to get the team's attention. They listen to what he says without hesitation, Daniel has to give Johnny that, dick. 

“I’ll take the North goal, you take South.” And Johnny slaps him on the shoulder and runs off. 

_Dick_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are heating up


	6. Friday 10:30 pm- Martinis and Trivia

“You know,” Amanda says as they plop back into their booth, gift cards in hand, “We should probably stop participating in these trivia nights, it’s really not fair to everyone else.”

Daniel makes a dismissive noise, waiving down the waitress for a round of celebratory martinis. “What’s the point in teaching if you can’t use your knowledge to win local bar trivia?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The joy of sharing knowledge and shaping a future generation of world changers?”

Daniel pretends to consider this, and they keep a straight face for all of five seconds before guffawing. 

When the waitress sets their martinis in front of them, Amanda plucks out the olive and leans back, watching Daniel drum his fingers on the table. She’s not even sure he’s aware that he’s doing it, the guy is _that_ distracted. “Okay, what gives?”

That deer in the headlights look is not nearly as effective as it used to be. “What?”

“Something is clearly eating at you. You’ve been distracted all night. You almost answered a question about World War II wrong.”

“What? I can’t be wrong sometimes? I’ve had four martinis, Mandy.” 

“Daniel.” She says seriously. “You wrote your thesis on World War 2, you might know more about the war than my grandfather and he stormed the beaches at Normandy on D-Day.” 

Daniel slurs another dismissive noise. “I wrote my thesis on the anti-asian sentiments that led to the creation and use of Japanese internment camps, not _Normandy_.” 

Amanda has to take a steadying sip before she can respond to that. “Whatever. Something’s eating at you. What is it?”

Daniel hesitates, so she presses on, pretty confident she knows what this is about. “How’s your assistant coach-ship going?”

His eyes meet hers, caught out. She raises a challenging eyebrow like ‘spill.’

As he takes a deep breath– the kind that always comes before a hand swinging rant– Amanda leans back into the booth to make herself comfortable. 

This oughta be good. 

It _is_. Daniel’s funny when he’s angry, even funnier when Amanda’s had a few martinis, and his ridiculous beef with Johnny Lawrence has been a great source of amusement for her ever since they became friends. 

“He called me a fucking _twink_ today. I mean, it’s not enough that he has to be an entitled, former frat boy with salon dyed hair and a spray tan,” they both know that Johnny’s adonis-good looks are not thanks to cosmetic enhancements, but if saying that makes him feel better, Amanda won’t deny him the pleasure. “He has to be a fucking homophobe on top of it all? I thought California was supposed to be all progressive.”

Daniel looks at her now, clearly expecting some kind of sage advice, but Amanda’s vodka-soaked brain was working at half speed. This must be why therapists don’t drink on the job. 

“I don’t think Johnny’s a homophobe.” She actually knows he isn't, but that isn't her information to share. “Also, why do you care if Johnny calls you a twink? You _are_ a twink.” 

A hard kick under the table and yeah, she probably deserves that one. 

“I’m not a fucking twink. ‘Twink’ implies that I’m gay.” 

She’s gonna get wrinkles on her forehead if she continues to raise her eyebrows like this. “You are gay?”

Daniel looks affronted. “I… might be somewhat attracted to men, but that _doesn’t_ make me gay.”

“What does it make you?” asks Amanda, playing along for the benefit of Daniel’s burgeoning crisis. 

“It makes me possibly–” and here he breaks off and begins talking to himself in that way he does when he’s drunk. “What did James call it? Ah! Bisexual.”

Amanda snorts. “You’re not bisexual.”

“Or maybe heteroflexible–” 

“Stop making up words.” 

“But it doesn’t make me _gay_. Besides, what are you, a sexuality expert?” 

Well, not in education. Life experience, however, “No, but I am something of a Daniel expert, and Daniel LaRusso is not bisexual. Or heteroflexible." 

"Tell me this,” she hastens to add before Daniel can argue. “Have you ever had a sexual experience with a woman that you actually enjoyed?”

His expression answers before he does. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“I could be meeting the wrong women,” Daniel sulks. 

“Women are not usually the issue in heterosexual sex that goes poorly.”

Daniel considers this for a moment. Nods thoughtfully, then shakes his head. “We’re losing the thread of this conversation. Whether or not I’m gay," and when Amanda opens her mouth to argue he forcefully adds, "which I’m _not_ , Johnny’s comment was totally out of line. It is _not_ professional to talk to a coworker like that.”

“We talk like that.”

“We’re friends,” Daniel insists. 

“And you're not friends with Johnny?” 

Daniel’s just drunk enough to miss the sarcasm, and he leans forward to emphasize his point:

“ _No_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "but t_time, weren't the 90s much more hostile to the concept of bisexuality?"
> 
> yes, however, I don't give a shit. biphobia does not exist in this dojo. 
> 
> I hope you are enjoying this so far!


	7. Saturday, 9:30 am- Scrimmage

On Saturday, Daniel wakes up hungover and annoyed. His (brief) stint as an assistant coach means waking up early on the one day he normally gets off, which is relatively common and good practice in sports. Unfortunately, Daniel’s headache and piss poor mood don’t understand reason. 

He puts on creased slacks and blames Johnny for the state of them. When he’s buttoning his shirt and fumbles a button, he swears and blames Johnny. And when he gets to the field, showered and (relatively) neatly dressed but late and wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day, he blames Johnny. 

“Woah. You look like shit.” speak of the devil, grinning around a piece of fucking bubble gum as he runs over.

Daniel lifts his glasses to give him a nasty look. “It’s 9 am on a Saturday, Lawrence.”

“Hangover?” Johnny asks, faking sympathy. 

Daniel replaces the sunglasses and sniffs piously. “Since you’re dying to know, I was up late grading last night.”

“Sure,” Johnny says, still grinning around his gum. 

“What’s the plan for today?” Daniel asks, changing the subject before Johnny asks him to go pound tequila shots or something. Actually, tequila shots might make him more bearable; but Daniel’s supremely touchy on tequila, so that’s not happening. 

“Didn’t you read the binder?” Disappointment colors his voice, and concern over what is essentially a meticulously crafted curriculum doesn’t really jive with Daniel’s vision of Lawrence. 

He shakes his head and hears a sigh. 

“Scrimmage. They’ve got their third game next week,” he quits his explanation to ask sarcastically, “You will be able to make it won’t you?” 

Daniel shifts. “Home or away?”

Lawrence snorts and doesn’t answer. Blows his whistle and calls the team over. Damn that whistle.


	8. Saturday, 2:30 pm- Lunch?

“You wanna get some lunch after this?” Johnny asks as they pick up cones. 

Daniel squints at the equipment bag he’s holding. “Why?”

“We could talk some strategy? For the game?” 

He makes a face. “Since when do you care about my input?”

Lawrence takes a long moment to respond, and when Daniel chances a look at him, he’s hunched, a little defeated. It passes quickly. “You told me you played forward?”

Daniel is certain he did not. “Sure.”

“Me too. I was a damn good winger. Jack, you know my old assistant,” Jesus, Daniel fucking _knows_. “He was a defender, always insisted one focusing on defense, I thought it was all bullshit.”

Daniel returns his gaze to the ground, wondering what this has to do with lunch. 

“But that scrimmage today,” Johnny whistles. “Their defense fell off fast. Thought maybe if we put our heads together, we could figure out how to improve it.”

He makes a mental note to get his ears checked, because there is no way he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing. Johnny Lawrence is asking someone for _help_? 

Johnny looks less confident than usual under Daniel’s scrutinizing gaze. It’s a nice olive branch, all things considered. “Okay.” 

“Yeah?” And his posture gives away that he’s about to say something annoying right before it happens.”Let’s hit Dennimen’s. Best hangover food in the Valley. They don’t serve Shirley Temples though.”

Daniel rolls his eyes so hard he literally sees red for a moment. “You don’t drink Shirley Temples for a hangover.” 

“ _I_ know that,” Johnny shoots back. “But you wear slacks to soccer practice, so who knows what fruity shit you drink to cure your hangovers. Like you probably drink sleepy-time tea before you go to bed.” 

He colors. “Shut up, Lawrence.” Shoves the last of the equipment in the bags and marches off. 

“You totally do!” Johnny crows. “Bet you wear pajama sets too.” 

“Fuck off, I do not.”

“Mhmm, like the stripey ones, with the little hat. Or, or, I’ll bet you wear like a-uh nightgown thing. With the cap.”

“Think about what I wear to bed much, do you?” Daniel asks, rounding on him when they reach the shed. Johnny just grins. 

“You wish.”


End file.
